


In Which Kili Makes a Good Choice

by hasbean



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Incest, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hasbean/pseuds/hasbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the glorious Hobbit Kink Meme; Thorin was Kili's first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kili Makes a Good Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Written and originally posted on the Hobbit Kink Meme on Livejournal. 
> 
> Unbeta'd - any mistakes are my lazy own!

 

Kili had been, since as long as his brother could remember – and Fili remembered when his cheeks were full and rosy, when his fingers were chubby – one to throw himself, wholeheartedly, into any experience with great eagerness. He had picked up and learnt to use a bow with as much enthusiasm as a sword, despite the way some scoffed. He delighted in the unknown and in new experiences, had always been utterly entranced by the great tales of the seasoned veterans of Ered Luin about far away lands, great dangers and darkness, adventure. When Fili left with his first scouting party, an overnight venture that was little more than trudging through woodlands during a heavy downpour, cold and uncomfortable, he was forced to retell every detail, every event for his brother, who watched him with wide eyes.

‘I cannot wait, Fili,’ his eyes were bright at the mere idea of the life offered to a grown dwarf, of the world outside the vast halls and caverns dwarflings were hidden away in for their protection, ‘I cannot wait to reach maturity, like you.’

He said it often, and the older heir of Durin would oft roll his eyes.

‘Peace, Kili,’ he would reply, pushing his brother’s unruly hair from his face, ‘you will reach it soon enough.’

And Kili would smile, bright and innocent, then press their foreheads together.

He had looked forward to it for so long, for the opportunity to shuck his awkward adolescence and call himself a man, and it came like it did for all male dwarves on his seventy-fifth birthday.

 

* * *

  
The occasion was marked with revelry – as it was not every day that an heir of Durin reached majority – and the arrival of their uncle, returned from working in the cities of men.  
Thorin appeared no less the dwarf royalty he was for all his time as nothing more than a simple blacksmith, entering the halls of Ered Luin, tall, broad, imposing and strong. Kili, with his ever-present enthusiasm that was unlikely to fade even with his coming of age, had practically squealed at his appearance, throwing himself at the older dwarf and speaking what seemed a hundred words a minute. Thorin smiled, indulgent and affectionate, combing dark locks behind his nephew’s ears and cupping his face as he chattered.

It was unlikely that he caught half of what Kili was saying, but he did not seem to mind overly much.

Kili was a bundle of energy through the week-long ceremonies – eating, drinking, singing, running, laughingshoutingexperiencing, until, the eve of the final day. The last hurdle to be climbed, the final day of one’s coming of age period marked the losing of one’s innocence to another dwarf of one’s choice, to shed that final inexperience, and it seemed to be looming; and Kili fell quiet.

Somehow, it appeared to go largely unnoticed as he smiled just enough, laughed when necessary but Fili could tell, as did their uncle if his dark eyes following the youngest heir of Durin watchfully indicated anything.

So when Kili excused himself early in the evening, with some weak plea of fatigue so unlikely in the vibrant youth, Fili finished his ale and made to stand; to question, or comfort, probably both. A large, powerful hand kept him in his seat, and the deep, rumbling baritone of Thorin’s voice silenced any protests he may have made.

‘Stay. I will speak with him.’

Fili tilted his head back as far as he could to see his uncle’s face and received a brief press of lips to his forehead for his effort. Calloused fingers traced his jaw and the young descendant of Durin was able to relax, if only slightly.

Kili would be in good hands.

 

* * *

  
The door to the room Kili shared with his brother opening a while after his departure from the festivities was not unexpected, the young dwarf not even bothering to look up from where he was unstrapping his boots. He wriggled his toes as they were freed from heavy leather, pushing his boots away as the mattress of his bed dipped beside him with the weight of another.

It was brown leather and dark maroon material that he expected to see, eyes downcast, half watching the stone floors, half his companion, but black and navy blue caused his head to snap up in surprise. Thorin wore his usual mask of stoicism, but his gaze was warm, like the hands that reached out and took Kili’s from his lap, threading their fingers together.

‘You are troubled, nephew.’

Kili shifted forward and bowed his head once more, resting his forehead against one of his uncle’s broad shoulders. He smelt of iron, ale, and foreign things – forests, and cities and horse – but underneath, still strong and more pervading than the rest, he possessed his own scent, masculine, musky and familiar. The young dwarf buried his face against the soft material of Thorin’s jerkin and breathed deep before he spoke.

‘I am tired, that is all.’

‘That is not all,’ a hand left his to card through soft hair, a thumb brushing the beginnings of stubble on his jaw and cheek, ‘and that much is obvious to me. You are concerned about tomorrow’s task.’

Not a question, no – a statement that Kili was unable to deny when presented with.

He turned his head to press a kiss to the coarse palm of the hand that continued to touch his face before meeting Thorin’s gaze, feeling a blush creep up his throat to his cheeks.

‘I have heard… that it is painful.’ The young dwarf’s voice was not nearly as steady as he would have hoped.

‘It can be, when not done right, or done hastily. It is not always comfortable, no… but pain can be avoided.’ The words are simultaneously comforting and sickening to Kili. ‘Have you chosen who you will lie with?’

The heavy ring on Thorin’s right hand proves a good distraction, and he twists it around his uncle’s finger, admiring the strong digits, calloused from decades of hard labour and rough living.

‘I thought… perhaps, as you were Fili’s choice… you would… you might…’

Thorin grips his chin and jerks his head up so that their eyes meet. His brow is furrowed, but the expression on his face not unkind.

‘Ask it of me.’

Kili swallows thickly. Even throneless, the King Under the Mountain was the most powerful, dangerous force he has ever known, and at times it made him tentative.

‘… I choose you, uncle. I wish for you to be the one, if you will it.’

Thorin cups the back of his head, pulls their mouths together for the first kiss he has ever shared with another that goes beyond platonic. Kili makes a soft noise in the back of his throat as heat coils low in his stomach and he knows that he has chosen wisely. Dangerous as he may be, he has never known more safety and comfort than in Thorin’s arms.

The older dwarf’s voice is coarser than normal when he pulls away and Kili squirms at the thought of _if kissing does that, what will tomorrow bring_ …

‘You have my acknowledgement, and my acceptance, nephew.’ He stands, but not before a final, chaste kiss. ‘I will see you in the morrow.’

His sleep that night is restless, but not due to the apprehension he had been enduring beforehand. Instead, he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the deep breathing of his brother beside him and he feels as if he cannot wait.

 

* * *

  
It was unsettling, in some unwarranted way, to be surrounded by people who knew that you would lose your innocence within hours. Kili had expected his brother to be insufferable about it – had expected Fili to tease him mercilessly about it, like he was wont to do about everything else – but in the end, it was the acquaintances, even the unknown, that jarred him most. As a result, he spent most of his final day in the chamber he shared with his brother, caring for his weapons, the leather of his boots or fletching his arrows until preparation could not be postponed any longer.

The younger dwarf bathed, scrubbing himself as clean as possible, and pulled on the ceremonial garb he’d been fitted for earlier that week, with hands that would tremor minutely; when he grabbed the washcloth, or when he attempted to knot the ties of his shirt. He realised, with such gut wrenching panic that spoke volumes of the state of his nerves, that attempting to braid his usually uncooperative hair properly in such a state would be nearly impossible but, as always, Fili was there for him. Calloused but nimble fingers combed dark locks into neat braids – ones that Kili could only ever replicate in hair other than his own – before pulling him tight against his chest in an embrace. The younger dwarf breathed deep, attempting to ground himself in the familiarity of his brother.

Some things would change that night, but not all. He tried to steady his breathing as he walked the halls to his uncle’s chambers.

By the time he arrived, rapping on the heavy wood of Thorin’s door, he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the tingle of anticipation in his fingertips and gut. He waited a moment for acknowledgement before entering, and Kili was quite sure he was trembling, though he did not know why.

‘Uncle…’ His mouth was dry.

Thorin was seated across the room in a tall-backed chair that faced an open hearth and he stood and crossed the room within a few steps. The young dwarf was pulled close. Kili released the breath he did not realise he had been holding as he gripped the material of his uncle’s shirt.

‘You must trust me, and you must relax.’

He breathes deep – once, twice – and then Thorin’s mouth is upon his and suddenly it is hard to be concerned about anything. The King Under the Mountain is nothing but power and hard muscle under his thin clothes, but his hands are gentle as one holds Kil’s hip, and the other cups his face. It is hard to know whether the intensity is too much – if perhaps he should have chosen someone with less experience and sureness, who would take it slower – but then his mouth was relinquished and lips were on his throat and _no, it was just right_.

Kili managed to catch his breath, pushing his fingers through thick ebony, streaked with dignified silver. A light tug to the roots had Thorin near growling against his neck, bestowing another tender kiss onto the skin before pulling back so their eyes could meet.

His hand still trembles when he places it on the hard planes of the older dwarf’s stomach, but if it is noticed, nothing is said. Thorin stills under his touch but for the moment he bows his head to rest their brows against one another. It means Kili is able to see, with clarity, the reactions he receives as his hand trails lower.

He’d never touched another man before – certainly not like that – and it felt strange to follow the thick trail of coarse hair to connect with hot flesh. For a moment, his inexperience felt crippling; the situation seemed too much, too difficult and he wanted to withdraw his hand and run, his adulthood be damned.

Then Thorin’s brows drew together, and his eyes darkened as the tips of Kili’s fingers slowly wrapped around his base. Any hesitation was fleeting after that. Suddenly, his apprehension was lost to the desire to see more from the King Under the Mountain – to see him lose some of that control and stoicism that Kili rarely saw him without. Thorin had been jaded and turned bitter through his experience since before Kili had been born – even Fili, older as he was, could not remember differently. That was not to say he could not be gentle and affectionate when in private, or surrounded by those who he trusted (or by those he did not care about the opinions of), but such raw, untamed responses sent shocks up Kili’s spine. Pieces started to fit into place – what had changed between his brother and uncle after the crown prince had come of age, what the touches and looks and smiles had really meant, how they were so utterly incomprehensible to the youngest brother those years ago – and Kili wanted. He wanted so badly his fingers tightened in his uncle’s hair to the point of discomfort, and he gripped tighter at that part of the larger dwarf that was both so frightening but made him so vulnerable.

‘Kili…’ Lips, dry but surprisingly soft, brushed the shell of his ear, hot breath against his throat. The roughness of Thorin’s voice made him ache.

Kili was brought sharply out of his daze moments later, however, when he was suddenly lifted, carried – with what seemed like far too little effort on the older dwarf’s part – and deposited on top of the large bed that acted as the centerpiece of the crownless king’s chambers. The young heir of Durin’s head spun, his nerves frayed enough that a touch to his thigh was smacked away, but Thorin merely chuckled.

‘I must admit, I did expect a little bit of fight from you…’ Kili allowed the touch the second time; enjoyed the feeling of warm skin even through the material of his pants.

He speaks before he has a chance to really consider his words.

‘Like Fili?’

There’s hesitation and Kili only realises he’s closed his eyes when he forces them open to see his uncle’s expression. Then he was being flipped by an unrelenting hold on his hip and Thorin was chuckling – maybe because of his own thoughts, maybe because of the noise of surprise Kili couldn’t stifle, maybe because of both. Probably both.

‘Aye, but that side has only come out more recently…’

But before any questions could be asked or long standing suspicions confirmed, Kili’s thought process ground to a halt as he was gripped firmly through his pants. The sensation was mind-numbing and he grabbed his uncle’s forearm, not to negate but simply for the support and grounding.

Thorin’s hand seemed to move upon him for hours – days, some indeterminable amount of time – and yet the moment he withdrew, it felt like it had not been there even close to long enough. The whine that left his lips – followed by a soft, wet noise like a “ _guh_ ” that didn’t sound like him at all – was most unbecoming, but Kili made it all the same when his uncle pulled away. He was manhandled once more, rolled so that he was on his back again, and Thorin settled on his knees between Kili’s thighs in a way that made it impossible to misunderstand how things would escalate.

No words were exchanged between them, though it was obvious that the rightful king sought confirmation. It was enough for Kili to lean forward and tug at the hem of his uncle’s shirt, coaxing him to remove it before moving onto the lacings of his breeches. Within moments, all clothing had been removed and cast aside, leaving them both bare and the younger feeling utterly breathless. Even Thorin’s exhale was shaky as he pressed a kiss to his nephew’s lips.

Kili knew what came next, but it did not make the first finger any less jarring, the second any less strange or the third any less uncomfortable. The stretch made his eyes water and by the time he was properly prepared and fingers were replaced with something far more substantial – though Kili had not been able to bring himself to look, to be faced with the reality of what his uncle looked like _down there_ , what it was and what was going on, no, not yet – the wetness had become tears. Thorin’s regret and remorse was written in the lines that creased his brow and the softness of dark eyes, but he did not falter, starting with slow, shallow movements that gradually got faster and went further.

Kili gripped the broad shoulders above him, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on the gentle kisses that were being pressed to his forehead and hair, and not the strange fullness within his pelvis and rear. If he had been more coherent, he would have been questioning the motivations of his kin – why anyone would willingly choose to do such a thing – and then Thorin found it.

It. Whatever it was. Whatever it was that ripped the stars from the sky and put them behind his eyelids. Whatever magic that took the electricity from the moist air during a thunderstorm and shot it straight up his spine. He scrabbled for a grip on Thorin’s skin but it was slick with sweat and getting a hold was near impossible.

The crownless king was grinning – a dark, nearly sinister smile that spoke of greed and desire and victory.

Kili’s toes curled as the pressure built, moaning and shouting his pleasure in a constant stream of noise that would have been ridiculous if not for his honesty. He did not last long – though the heir of Durin knew of no comparison to mark himself against – and Thorin followed a few moments after, his completion signaled by a short, guttural grunt and the spreading of a wet heat inside Kili that had him squirming.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a long while, the only sounds between them their heavy breathing until Kili at last found his voice, though it was weak from overuse.

‘I’d like to do that again... to make sure I have truly matured.’

He can feel as much as hear Thorin’s low, rumbling laugh with their chests still pressed together. His uncle pulled him into a kiss and suddenly, Kili was excited once more – excited about the future and what it would bring.

 

* * *

  
The burglar – Kili had quickly learnt that he was _a Baggins with an ‘a’, not a Boggins with an ‘o’_ but it was a harmless and easy mistake to make – was watching him across the fire with an expression like nervous curiosity and he knew what was coming. Gloin’s description of his budding family – wife and young son – had started somewhat of a commotion within their little camp as the company recounted their family situations to the clueless Bilbo Baggins. By the time supper was had and cleaned up after, the only ones who had not contributed – even Bifur had gesticulated wildly in attempts to convey some kind of message – were the heirs of Durin, and it had not gone unnoticed.

‘I assume that you two are too young to have wives and children…?’

Fili takes a long pull from his pipe before tilting his head back to blow the smoke up above their heads. From his place with his head pillowed comfortably in his brother’s lap, Kili can see the slight quirk of his lips.

‘We have no such things, no.’

There’s a brief pause before Bilbo forges onwards, the brave little hobbit that he is.

‘… and Thorin?’

Half of the company startle visibly when Thorin speaks from his place propped up against a tree nearby, either woken by the conversation or never really properly asleep in the first place.

‘No, Master Baggins,’ Fili is watching their uncle with bright eyes and Kili turns his head to hide his smile against his brother’s stomach, ‘I am too busy with what I already have.’

 


	2. Previously, Fili's Choice Was Equally Enlightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kind-of-prequel, detailing Fili's first encounter with Thorin and a needless, fluffy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have something to confess. Commas and I? We are in love. I can't do without them. I wholeheartedly apologise for my consistent and unforgivable abuse of them. My sentences are also too long, and fluffy and pah. 
> 
> In other news, this chapter is much longer than the initial fill but what can I say, it got away from me. 
> 
> Still without a beta, my apologies for any glaring mistakes.

 

The moon had barely passed its highpoint for the evening and already Fili had found his eyelids growing heavy and his attention flagging from the raucous celebration around him. The ale and stronger liquors had been flowing steadily since the party’s onset and would continue into the wee small hours, but two flagons of alcohol – something that, before his coming of age, he’d only stolen sips of, or smelt on the breath of others – had been enough for the young heir of Durin. He didn’t quite understand how it made some of his kinsmen so unruly – it had the exact opposite effect on him, weighting his eyelids and blurring his thoughts.

It was the celebration of his reaching of majority, and Fili vaguely wondered when he had transitioned from the centre of everything to the outskirts, but then the tabletop was calling to him and _did it really matter_? He could see Kili across the room, could hear him clearly, loud and rowdy due to his personality alone. They shared a glance, a smile, then Fili pressed his flushed face against the cool wood and allowed himself to close his eyes, just for the moment, as voices and laughter and music washed over him. When he’d regained a bit of his energy, he would go over and join his brother and continue to enjoy the festivities.

Warm, coarse fingers against the back of his neck woke him from a slumber he had not meant to fall into, an indeterminable length of time later. The heir of Durin had barely opened his eyes before strong arms tucked under his knees and around his waist, lifting him from the table at which he had been slumped against. If the sounds were anything to go by, the celebration was still in full swing, though the music was less crisp and the songs, less intelligible.  

Thick, dark hair spilling over broad shoulders was enough of an identifier for Fili and he complacently tucked his head under his uncle’s chin, gripping the thick material of his coat. He didn’t bother asking, or disputing – it would fall upon deaf ears – and simply enjoyed the close warmth of Thorin’s body as he was carried from the festivities.

‘You will build up your tolerance with time, dear one.’

It was unlikely their departure was even noticed, considering the audible chaos they left behind, so Fili was able to ignore the indignity of being treated like a child in favour for relishing in the affection. Thorin never failed to light a decadent, comfortable warmth in the pit of his stomach down to the tips of his toes and, through the haze of alcohol, he felt no shame in enjoying it.

Fili found himself deposited on a firm bed, having taken in little to nothing of the journey there aside from the soft, luxuriant fur of his uncle’s coat, the heat of his firm chest and the occasional ghost of lips against the top of his head. Turning onto his side – despite how it earned him growl of irritation from the older dwarf who had gripped his calf, attempting to remove one of his heavy boots – Fili buried his face into the soft linen and breathed deep, enjoying the familiar smell of his uncle.

‘Why didn’t you take me to me and Kills’ room…?’ His words slurred together as his surrounds spun, slow and constant.

‘Selfish reasons.’ Thorin replied, his voice low enough that it was barely audible over the rustling of fabric.

When a warm body joined him, maneuvering him under the covers, Fili rolled over to be able to press close to his uncle. The younger dwarf noted, vaguely, that his question had not been answered – not properly, at least – and frowned, grasping for the words he needed to get out, and how to get them there. Maybe he would have achieved a bumbling question if not for the strong arm that wrapped around his waist, or the calloused hand that began to rub circles against his back. In the end, all Fili managed was a soft grunt of pleasure before his eyes slid shut.     

* * *

 

With daybreak had come a pounding in the heir of Durin’s skull like he had never before known. Dull sunlight – the sun of dawn, feeble in its warmth – trickled through heavy curtains, insipid in its ability to fall directly onto the faces of sleeping dwarves. Cracking an eye open, Fili was momentarily confused at the unfamiliar surrounds before placing the hearth and practical furniture as the insides of his uncle’s room.

Fili sat up slowly, though it increased the pain in his head ten-fold and allowed the cold morning air to bite at his torso, face and the tips of his ears. He was not entirely surprised to find his uncle lying beside him, dark eyes sharp despite the early hour.

‘How do you feel?’ Thorin’s voice was deep and sleep-roughened, unlike Fili had heard it in years – since he and Kili had been young enough to get away with accosting their uncle in the early mornings, demanding he rise to partake in whatever activities they had planned for the day.

In the past, Fili had never really paid any notice to it, it registering as nothing more than “Uncle-Thorin’s-irritated-early-morning-voice”. That day, however, it sent lazy sparks up his spine.

‘My head aches... and I feel rank.’

He allowed himself to fall back down against the comfortable bedding before scooting closer to the older dwarf and, when Thorin did not protest the closeness, resting his sore head against his uncle’s chest. It meant Fili felt as well as heard the laugh his response elicited.

‘You are free to get up and bathe at any time if you feel so horrid.’

The young heir of Durin shook his head and immediately regretted the action as the pounding increased. His fingers dug into the soft material of Thorin’s tunic as he pressed his face against cotton, flesh and muscle, as if hiding from the pain would make it disappear, or at least ebb. A hand rested at the back of his neck, rubbing away the accumulated pressure and Fili did not attempt to stifle his appreciative moan.

His response came out muffled against Thorin’s chest.

‘No, I think I shall be happy to remain here a while longer.’

The exiled King simply hummed low in his throat, assumedly in resignation to his role as a pillow for his hung-over nephew. The strong, worn fingers did not falter against Fili’s skin, dipping and moving across the tension of his shoulders and back. They lay in silence a long while, Thorin’s fingers a constant, moving comfort as the younger dwarf fell in and out of a light doze. By the time the rest of the household could be heard moving around the other end of the building – barely audible, thanks to Thorin’s position as respected patriarch warranting him the most privacy, at the very back of their humble home – Fili’s headache had mostly dissipated, and he rested warm, comfortable and content.

The sun had become stronger through the part in the curtains, warming the younger dwarf’s back and chasing off the final vestiges of sleep with the retreat of the early morning’s cool. Fili titled his head upwards, meeting his uncle’s gaze with a content smile and something clicked – final pieces falling into place, like on the wooden puzzles he and Kili would complete when they were younger.

‘Would you be my one for the last day of the celebrations, uncle?’

Thorin was silent long enough for Fili to doubt. He combed the thick, unruly golden locks back from his nephew’s brow as eyes – that could go from the brightest blue to the darkest black – studied the details of the younger dwarf’s face. The scrutiny was mildly unsettling but Fili endured it, covering Thorin’s hand with his own when it settled to cup his jaw.

‘You could have any you set your heart on, dear one. Are you sure it is me that you want?’

Perhaps he was still a little bit drunk, as the force that had Fili surging upward to press their mouths together could only be described as liquid courage. The kiss was brief and wholly one-sided, Thorin’s expression pinched when the younger pulled back far enough to see it. The line of Durin, however, was not known for retreat – nor for compromising on what it wanted.

‘Aye, Thorin. You and no other.’

The second time he leant in, unsteady arms only just holding him above his uncle, Fili was pulled the rest of the way by a grip at the back of his head. Thorin kissed like he did everything else – with a thinly veiled intensity and strength that permeated anything he touched. Before the younger dwarf could really register what was going, Thorin had flipped their positions and settled between the strong, albeit comparatively lithe, thighs of his nephew. His beard was coarse against Fili’s skin, the beginnings of his own facial hair barely dampening the sensation as their mouths collided once more.

Fili had never kissed anyone, before that morning, with any real intent – had never thought that it seemed so great, even – so the touch of tongue to the crease of his lips was startling. The soft wetness of it alone, coupled with who it was doing such a thing to him, had the young heir of Durin squirming and hesitantly opening his mouth. He had no idea what to do – how to reciprocate, even if he should, and his fingers flexed ineffectually against his uncle’s shoulder. Then Thorin took the opportunity and the lead without hesitation, kissing him searchingly; slow, wet and intimate. It was at once too much and not nearly enough, Fili unable to stifle a weak, high-pitched moan of loss as the older dwarf pulled back, their lips swollen and red. Thorin kissed him once more, chaste but moist and _just really perfect_ Fili thought dazedly, before resting their foreheads together as they regained their breath. 

Eventually, the exiled King’s voice – rough with something quite different to sleep – broke the silence. 

‘It would be an honour, nephew.’

* * *

 

The ceremonial garb felt too light, but knowing he wouldn’t have to wear it long wasn’t exactly comforting. Fili had been so sure – was still so sure that Thorin was the right choice – and he anticipated the night to come, but the nerves he felt could not be overcome by logic. He sat at the end of his bed as Kili ran a brush through his unruly hair, chattering happily about how great it was going to be that Fili would be grown up, and how he envied him. By the time the youngest brother had begun braiding, he’d talked himself in a circle.

Then again, that had never stopped Kili before.

Kili’s voice was comforting, his fingers sure despite an inability to put a half decent braid in his own wild hair. A gentle tug to the neatly affixed locks above his left ear indicated the younger was finished with his work and Fili turned to kiss his little brother’s brow.

Kili’s smile was radiant, and Fili let it give him courage.

* * *

 

His hands shook when he entered his uncle’s room once more, but Thorin – always so attuned, always knowing how to read his nephews – had coaxed him from the doorway, not allowing him to hesitate too long or retreat. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the older dwarf coaxed Fili to settle on his lap, one knee on each side of his thighs. The young heir of Durin’s hands found purchase on Thorin’s shoulders, biting his lip as his nerves swelled.     

He had expected comforting words, or for them to stop and even discuss the act beforehand; Thorin had always been thorough in his educating. Instead, Fili’s lips were taken in a tender kiss that efficiently distracted him from most of his thoughts. The strong hands that slid up his thighs made the rest seem frivolous.  

By the time Fili’s tunic was tugged over his head, his breathing was coming shallow and fast, hands threading restlessly through his uncle’s hair as he was at a loss as to what to do with them otherwise. Thorin bowed his head, warm mouth pressing against a shoulder dusted with freckles that were just visible under the healthy glow if Fili’s skin before trailing lower. The younger dwarf sucked in a sharp breath as his uncle’s hand smoothed over the sensitive skin of his belly, catching at the dip of his navel before continuing on to the laces of his breeches.  

‘Is this okay, dear one?’

Fili pressed his face, which felt red and hot, against the exiled King’s throat and took a deep breath his pants were unlaced low enough for calloused fingertips to brush through the wiry hair above his groin. The noise that came from his mouth was supposed to be a soft assent but ended up more of a garbled whimper. Thorin’s hand did not go any further, nor did it still entirely, rubbing small circles at the crease where pelvis met thigh. Fili cleared his throat and tried again.

‘It’s… it’s okay.’

He would have amended the statement – that it was _better_ than okay, really, with the feeling of fire coursing through his veins, Thorin’s touch the most satisfying heat he had ever experienced – but words were completely stolen from him as he was taken in a firm grip, sudden and sure. Fili found himself struck dumb, but not completely silent as his uncle began stroking his shaft, gasping and moaning and writhing against the touch. A brief swipe at his tip not a few minutes later had the young heir of Durin convulsing with his climax, sudden and violent enough to leave him shaking.

Fili vaguely registered being eased onto his back, a soft mattress supporting his body as he enjoyed the pleasant aftershocks. It was not like it was his first orgasm – the sensation of completion itself was known to him, as it was to most young boys with any spare time – but the surety and skill of Thorin’s touch, the feel of his body, even the smell of him had made the experience surreal. His pants were tugged off as he regained his senses and, when his uncle rejoined him, kneeling between his slightly bent legs, Fili found him in an equal state of nudity. It was an odd impulse that guided his hand to the thick hair that covered his uncle’s chest and trailed down his stomach to a denser, coarser thatch but Thorin voiced no complaint. In fact, the older dwarf watched him intently as he explored, his pupils blown with unconcealed desire.

When Fili’s fingers travelled lower, hesitantly curling around thick, hot flesh – which made the act to come seem near _impossible_ as _Fili didn’t have much experience with those kinds of things, no, but really, you can’t thread a rope through a needle eye_ – Thorin ducked his head and sealed their mouths together in a fierce kiss.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, as it had been impossible to pay any attention to Thorin’s own handling of his hardness earlier, and it was his first encounter with another in any such capacity. However, after he found a rhythm of sorts, his touches elicited a low grunt from the older dwarf, as well as a subconscious twitch of his hips that emboldened Fili.

Thorin allowed the touches a while – far longer than Fili had endured, and, it seemed, without half the abandon – before making a low noise akin to a growl as he swatted his nephew’s hands away.

‘Enough, Fili,’ Thorin’s voice was like granite passed against stone and Fili shuddered at that alone, ‘Roll over, onto your stomach.’

He had known it was coming; it was, after all, impossible to forget in such a situation. However, the escalation of the situation was suddenly upon him and Fili’s mind and body ground to a halt. Thorin must have recognised his apprehension, his expression softening even through the darkness of his eyes and the tension in his jaw. Fili did his best to relax as soothing kisses were pressed against his cheek, throat, then mouth, his uncle bumping their noses together afterwards. Thorin then offered him a smile, warm and affectionate and Fili couldn’t help but return it as he took a few deep breaths.

‘You will be more comfortable on your stomach during this…’ The exiled King spoke when the younger dwarf had relaxed, a strong hand against his thigh coaxing him to roll.

Fili did not budge, though, shaking his head with enough vigor as to send his wild golden hair flying about him.

‘Can we do it like this?’

Thorin nodded once, despite his obvious skepticism.

‘If you wish it.’

‘Then like this, uncle.’

The older dwarf reached for a small vial atop a practical table that stood beside the bed. Unstopping the lid, he upturned it over his fingers a moment, working them together to ensure their slickness.

Despite watching his uncle’s every move, the wet pressure between his thighs was jarring and Fili gasped aloud. The first finger was strange, but the second ached and he couldn’t quash the moan of displeasure that clawed its way from his throat. Fili was enduring three fingers – and how it _stung_ – before Thorin found something in him that had him near shrieking with confused delight. He flailed, clutching at what he could, torn between pushing back into that incredible, intense sensation and retreating from it.

‘Wh-wh…’ Fili could barely formulate words, and found himself making a noise far too akin to a _squeal_ as Thorin pressed against that spot once more.

The exiled King’s laugh was pitched low and rumbling, his lips finding the sensitive shell of his nephew’s ear and biting it ever so gently, his tongue quick to soothe any discomfort.

‘That, my Fili, is why it is good to become a man.’

Thorin indulged him until the young dwarf was near senseless, writhing and moaning wantonly. It meant that the removal of fingers was a keen sensation, despite the haze of pleasure he was immersed in, but the press of something quite different was not unwelcome.

Until Fili was breached properly.

The pain was searing, despite Thorin’s best efforts to prepare him for the stretch, and the angle made it all the more awkward, deep and invasive.  

‘Why would you have it this way, my sweet boy? If it is simply to prove that you can endure the discomfort, I would tie you face down myself...’

It was clearly a distraction tactic – an attempt to help Fili ignore the dull throb inside him as the older dwarf began to move – but the young heir of Durin appreciated it nonetheless. Thorin’s brow was beaded with sweat, undoubtedly from the strain of holding himself back, and Fili found himself loving him all the more in that moment, if it was possible.  

‘N-Nothing so noble…’ He paused a moment as Thorin pressed an apologetic kiss to the skin at his inner thigh, ‘I just _…_ ’ – a sharp exhale, a whining “ahh, _uncle_ …!” – ‘… want to see your face during this…’   

Even if he had thought it to be the wrong response, Fili would not have been in a position to think up a better one. A moment later and Thorin was taking a shuddering breath before kissing his nephew, brief but tender.

‘Just endure it a while longer. It will pass, I promise you.’

The pain was unlike anything he could have expected, and Fili felt tears form in the corners of his eyes, gravity causing them to mingle in the sweat clinging to his hairline. Thorin, however, was persistent in his pursuit of some pleasure for his young lover and it came soon enough.

A single thrust, experimental in its depth and angle, had Fili gasping like a drowning man, clutching at the broad expanse of his uncle’s back hard enough to leave welts. The intense pleasure obliterated any concerns about discomfort, rendering him lax and malleable. Thorin’s thrusts picked up speed and depth after the discovery and Fili soon found himself crying out with every inwards push, his toes curling as electricity seemed to course straight up his spine.

He found his peak a second time with only the friction of Thorin’s stomach against his cock and the feel of the exiled King inside of him, attempting to stifle his cries with a hand to his mouth but failing miserably. He was suddenly too sensitive, and every thrust inside him was sweet agony. What felt like a decade later, though, Thorin found his own peak with a sharp groan that had Fili’s cock giving a final, feeble twitch.

Thorin fell to the mattress at his nephew’s side before pulling him close, the two of them panting shallowly, exhausted and spent. Fili barely registered the kiss pressed to his forehead, already on his way to a deep sleep. He wondered if perhaps he should say something – if he needed to check if he’d done okay, or were there things still needing to be done. Then Thorin’s fingers were in his hair, combing it back from his damp forehead and Fili had nothing to say, drifting off to sleep moments later.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight could not permeate the thick stone of Erebor’s halls, and Fili found himself missing it of a morning, and the stars at night. The Great Chamber, once inhabited by Thrain, and before him, Thror, was impressive. With the rebuilding of the Lonely Mountain came the regaining of incredible magnificence in the form of dark stone, rich wood and luscious furs that decorated it justly but, in the stillness of night, the room unsettled Fili.

Kili slept soundly behind him, half-buried under the covers of the massive bed that served both the King Under the Mountain and his heirs alike those days, snoring faintly and utterly dead to the world. Most other nights, Fili would have returned to the soft mattress and warm body of his brother but he felt too restless. Sleep, it seemed, would elude him that night.  

Donning his coat and boots, Fili quietly slipped from the room and took to the empty corridors. Thorin assured them that, with time, they would learn the kingdom’s winding ways as well as they had known their hometown in Ered Luin, and though Fili did not know if he believed it, he had not the heart to disagree with his uncle.

He allowed his thoughts to stray as he walked, seeking the Front Gate where he would find the vast night sky above him on the battlements. They had completed their quest; reclaimed Erebor, defeated the Bringer of Cataclysm, and found a home for their people. Thorin sat on the throne, Fili at his right and Kili at his left, and his rule was just. It was no small feat, however, bringing Erebor back under control, strengthening it against the new world, and most nights, Thorin would not slip into bed until so late it bordered on early.

He was spared a glance by the guards patrolling the battlements above the Front Gate before they bowed respectfully and moved on, giving him his privacy. The stars were hidden that night, thick cloud that heralded future rain lingering as far as the eye could see. The air was crisp, though, and the breeze refreshing.

He did not hear the footsteps behind him, only alerted to the presence of another when strong hands slid around his waist and soft lips brushed his ear.

‘Why do you wander so late, dear one?’

Fili did not turn to face his uncle, merely reclined further against him. They stood in silence a while, content to watch the distant lights of Laketown.

‘Sleep eludes me, is all… I thought some fresh air would clear my head.’

Silence settled in once more, nothing but the whistling of wind through carved stone colouring the sounds of the night. It was at length before either of them spoke again.

‘Erebor is your rightful home; yours, and your brother’s,’ Thorin’s words were soft, but fierce in a way that dwarves were so inclined, ‘but some times… I wonder if it is what you want.’

The younger dwarf turned at this, to face his king, uncle, lover, his _so much nearly everything_ , and took hold of a thick, dark braid. Tugging gently, he brought Thorin’s brow to his own and met his eye, letting his own words be laced with the intensity that he felt deep within his own chest.

‘Kili and I, we have always had a choice.’

Then Fili smiled, ‘And we have always been right in choosing you.’  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of character? Soppy? Pointless? Yes, yes, all of those things, precious <3


End file.
